They’re fun but lack lengthy appeal.
There's many a reference that can be slapped like a bumper sticker all over London four-piece Filthy Boy: Arctic Monkeys, Nick Cave, Tom Waits, Alex Kapranos from Franz Ferdinand. The smoother than a baby's bottom vocal from Paraic Morrissey lilting over twangy, surfer rock housed on their debut is enough to assure listeners that they're in familiar territory with much to like but little to excite. Not that there isn't enough punch in Naughty Corner's slick jibes or Waiting On The Doorstep's tale of jilted debauchery; they're fun but lack lengthy appeal.